~hypethral
i. december
with nothing left to harvest
of a chillblain night
old stars burn swiftly
and collapse to metaphors
tremor my memory's edge
like tongues
keeping conversation with
palsied premonitions
it's as if even a rusted moon resists
the imperfections of my half-naked
bones
a slight shift of light
an unraveling of reasons
seasons shuttered
to a darkened house
the familiar blur
ii. january
hourly, through this relentless
cold baptism
I stoke the backfire
underneath the kindling of napalm
and molecules smolders
a consummation
a cause and effect
the escaping dark column
creates a cloudbank
some kind of smokescreen
that passes by my half-sighted pane
perhaps pollution of the dead
hours
an inarticulate darkening
iii. february
cancel now this grieving
from my green eyes
contain all things off white
and winter-wounded
or remain widowed black
buried beneath a grey-haired horizon
eavesdrop from that cemented ceiling
to a voice unearthed
a reversal of sighs
as if the sound of leaden trees
all bare-armed and longing
becomes an allegory of nous
an unlikely song
iv. march
as slow as sunday snow
I shred the advancing shadows
of eleven hours of damp ink
and build a papernest
vowing to become a bird
- uncaged
feathers preened, softened for flight
pulled the same way virgin petals stare
sunward
like pillars of melting smoke
find me now
released
my slowfade into blue
I am wingspread
lah 1.28.14 ©®